


The Time of Death

by SiriusOrionBlack12



Series: A Song Of Wolves & Dragons [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Achilles Is Reborn As A Lannister, Be patient, Dany Has A Twin Sister, F/M, Future Jonerys, Hector Is Reborn, Hector and Odysseus Are Reborn As Twins, I Love Jonerys But I Love Good Story Telling More, Kaitlynn Bell Plays Rhaenarys, Robert's Rebellion, Tywin Lannister's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28078443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiriusOrionBlack12/pseuds/SiriusOrionBlack12
Summary: 12,000 years ago, the greatest war ever fought occurred in Troy. Legends were born and died during the Trojan War. The most notable being: Achilles, Hector, and Odysseus. Nearly, 15,000 years later, the Three-Eyed Raven, with the assistance of the Old Gods, has decided to bring the finest warriors of the Trojan War back to life; this time, in Westeros, where chaos, glory, honor, fire, and ice will sing for a billion more years. The Trojan Wars are over, but the Wars of Ice and Fire are about to begin. Witness an epic like no other in Sirius Orion Black's "A Song of Wolves & Dragons" High Fantasy Series consisting of one prologue and five books: The Prolouge: The Tide of Time, Book 1: The Roses of Blood, Book 2: The Calm of Storms, Book 3: The War of Thrones, Book 4: The Duel of Dragons, and Book 5: The Wrath of Winter.
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Future Achilles Lannister/Lyanna Stark, Future Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Future Robb Stark/Rhaenarys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Robb Stark/Rhaenarys Targaryen
Series: A Song Of Wolves & Dragons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057913
Comments: 52
Kudos: 19





	1. There Are No Pacts Between Lions & Men

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Longclaw_1_6](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Longclaw_1_6/gifts), [walkingpottergirl14](https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkingpottergirl14/gifts), [alperez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alperez/gifts), [megsd89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/megsd89/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Hector confronts the Great Achilles.

**A** lone in the dry-arid-battlefield, Achilles Peleuson, the greatest warrior of the Greeks, stood, not as a soldier but as an acrimonious lion. Inside the blood-drunk animal, the rage of war burned like scorching Greekfire. The heir of Troy, Prince Hector Priamson, had murdered his cousin. Now, it was time for the beast’s revenge.

Observing the Trojan Citizens atop the City Walls, his fever burned with wrath; Prince Hector was there.

“HECTOR!”

“HECTOR!”

"HECTOR!”

If you were watching with the other Trojans atop the City Walls, you’d think that Achilles was a mad man. The hallows of his galling screams were not ones of humans. Instead, they were of ones of merciless gods.

Growing louder, the winds carried his bellows. It made them echo all the way from the sands to the dais atop the city’s high walls. Everyone there could hear it, but that wasn’t what made his ire frightening. No, what made his ire frighting was that everyone knew Hector’s fate was sealed. Even King Priam himself knew that his firstborn son, the heir of his throne, the defender of his kingdom, was nearing his march to his death.

Turning away from watching Achilles hallow down below, Hector fell to his knees, beforth his father. “Father, forgive me for any offenses,” said Hector, remorse in his voice. “I’ve served you the best I could.”

The Trojan King rose from his celestial throne, signaling for his firstborn to rise. Once he did, Priam kissed his son’s forehead. “May the Gods be with you,” hoarsed the king. Hesitating, Hector bowed before he rose to go. 

“Hector!” shouted Priam; his heir turned around. The bond between a father and a son knew no bounds. “No father ever had a better son.” His father’s words moved him. In fact, his words moved him so much that he bowed again before he moved on. Passing by Glaucus, Troy’s second-best general bent forth to its first.

“May the Warrior guard you, my prince!” declared Glaucus.

Clasping the general’s shoulder, the prince kept walking, only stopping when he reached his little brother. The brothers looked at each other before embracing for one last time. “You’re the best man I’ve ever known,” said Paris. Gripping his arm, Hector stared at Paris. “You’re a Prince of Troy; I know you’ll make me proud.” Hector then kissed his brother’s forehead before he continued on his way to meet his destiny, leaving the dais behind.

Trailing the parapets, Hector saw his wife, Andromache, waiting for him near the battlement’s bulwark. In her arms was their baby boy. Going up to her, Hector brushed his fingers against his lover’s curly brown hair. 

“You remember what I told you?”

“You don’t have to go. You don’t-”

“You remember what I told you?”

If it hadn’t been clear to him before, it was clear to him now that his wife had not been sleeping. Her hair was a wild mess; her eyes glowed watery red. Tears were threatening to form; she could no longer form words. One last time, kissing his newborn son, Hector hugged Andromache before he detached himself from her and gaited off.

Only stopping when he reached the massive city gates, Hector was given his war helmet by a fellow soldier. Taking it, he sensed someone behind him. Turning, he saw Helen, ten feet back, her beauty greater than ever.

The two stared at each other for a long time until the massive city gates reeled open. Offering a small smile before turning around, he put on his helmet and walked through the gates onto the dry-arid-battlefield. Strolling towards Achilles, he knew his death was imminent, but honor obliged him to face his fate head-on.

Once the gates closed, space and time stopped turning. Not even the birds were soaring in the skies anymore. Everyone and everything was watching them from the beaches to the city. No one would ever forget this.

“I’ve seen this moment in my dreams,” began Hector, but Achilles gave no mind. “I’ll make a pact with you, with the Gods as our witnesses. Let us pledge that the winner will allow the loser all the proper funeral rituals.”

“There are no pacts between lions and men!” snarled Achilles. Taking his helmet off, he threw it aside; it rolled into the desert’s sand. He didn’t look human; he looked like an animal. “Now, you know who you’re fighting!” 

Pausing for a moment, Hector decided to remove his helmet, and he, just like his opponent, tossed it aside. “I thought it was you I was fighting yesterday! And I wish it had been you! But I gave the dead boy the honor he-”

“You gave him the honor of your sword!” snapped Achilles with snake-like-venom practically dripping from his mouth. “You won’t have eyes tonight; you won’t have ears or a tongue! You will wonder the underworld, blind, deaf, and dumb! And all the dead will know: this is Hector, the fool who thought he’d killed Achilles!”

There was silence just for a second. Then it began. Armed with his spear and shield, Achilles charged forward.

Unprepared for his assault, Hector watched Achilles, in a blur, sidestep before he dashed straight at him. Fiercely, Achilles thrusted his double-edged spear with all his might at Hector’s neck. Barely having enough time to evade his enemy’s sharp head, Hector felt the point whish like a bolt past his ear. The Trojan was almost ready to counter with his lance, but the Greek crashed his shield against his, causing him to brace its thunderous collision so he wouldn’t stumble rearwards. By the time he’d adjusted, Achilles was circling him like a shark. Not having enough time to plan his next move, Hector realized Achilles was winding up for a supernatural strike. Leaping into the sky, it seemed that Achilles was a god from the heavens. The sun’s rays glimmered off his spear’s sharp-iron-tooth, seconds before Achilles brought it down like a comet, targeting Hector’s face. Unlike before, he was ready; urgently, he rose his shield above his head, and the tip’s fang rang against his bronze shell. Nonetheless, the Greek’s smite was so great that it dictated the Trojan to stagger backwards.

Pressing his advantage, Achilles drove at his enemy once more; his silver-tush sped towards Hector’s knees. Crouching, the Trojan ceiled his exposed shins behind his metal buffer; the Greek’s lancet clanged against it. Realizing he’d only have a split-second, the Trojan Prince pivoted his feet and jabbed his spear forward. Deflecting his thrust, Achilles twirled his double-edged spear; it sissed like a throat-slitter towards his neck. Shifting his body to the right at the last moment, Hector realized he’d just defied his first brush with death. Coming at him again, the supposed immortal tried another thrust at his opponent’s lower body; this time, the spear flew towards Hector’s feet. Moving his feet like there was a fire, the spear’s tip instead sank into the sere dirt. Not having time to go on the attack, Hector pulled his head back when Achilles tried to impale his face once more. Allowing his reflexes to lead his counter, the Trojan’s spear began to spar with the Greek’s. Quickly adapting, Achilles decided to play dirty; he attempted to take off his opponent’s head with his shield. Ducking Achilles’ decapitation attempt, Hector was again forced backwards when his foe pushed onward. Having no time to deflect his adversary’s latest prod, the Trojan tried and successfully trapped the Greek’s lance between his armor and his rod. However, his victory was short-lived when Achilles feigned that his shield was a battle-axe; he used it to sever Hector’s spear in half. In doing so, the prince was sent sprawling abaft.

Recovering, the Trojan threw his broken spear aside. Conversely, the Greek continued his latest onslaught. Aligning his hands behind his shield, the prince bought himself time; clutching the handle of his sword, he kept deterring Achilles’ assails. Twirling, he unleashed his weapon; it sang severance to his enemy’s spear. Finally, Hector went on the attack; his blade hissed an inch from Achilles’ nose; the warrior looked mortal. Yet, Achilles too drew his sword; blades and shields then pranced, forging fiery sparks for what seemed to last for an eternity.

In due time, Hector began tiring; his form was still doable, but he knew that the hour wasn’t on his side. Seeing an opening, the Trojan gashed his sword at the Greek’s chest. Vaulting back at the last moment, Achilles managed to avoid his doom; albeit, he looked down, realizing that his bronze breastplate was now scarred with a fine gauging line. Looking up, he saw the prince breathing heavily before he sprang forward. If Hector’s sword was just a centimeter more to the left, he could have ended Achilles right there and then. Instead, Hector’s sword jammed and ensnared between Achilles’ side and shield. Unable to nudge the blade free, the heir knew he had to raise his shield; he did, but the Greek’s sword rattled against it at a godlike rate. Consequently, Hector was sent lurching backwards; he tripped over a stone before falling onto the desert’s sandy unfertile ground. As he did, his shield detached itself from his arm, flying twenty-feet away from him.

“Get up, prince, get up, I won’t let a stone take my glory,” said Achilles, scoffing, tossing his shield aside.

Grunting from his broken ankle, Hector slinked to grab his dropped sword and his severed yet arable spear. Slowly rising to his feet, the Trojan Prince, knowing that his stamina was waning fast, gathered all the strength he had left for one last bout. Charging with capricious fury, his sword and spear slashed and sliced impetuously at his foe. However, the Greek parried and countered all the Trojan’s blows with ease and baited him to press on. Working his plan to perfection, Hector’s form continued dwindling, and it was not long until Achilles captured his severed spear. Propelling around, Achilles heaved the pike like it was a javelin baton at Hector’s chest.

The prince then collapsed and fell to his knees. The pain he felt from his fatal wound was unimaginable. Gasping in agony, Hector looked up at Achilles; the man had no mercy painted on his face. Vision leaving his eyes, the last thing he heard before his world came to a crashing end was a raven’s caws and a direwolf’s howls.


	2. This story was a oneshot; the real TBOR is going to come out sometime next week. Here's quick preview though to show you that I am still alive:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do have a question though how do you write a battle scene with a POV character cutting and slicing down characters without saying "he sliced a man down here, he sliced another man down here, and another here" because in IMO that's shit writing, and I don't like shit writing--that's what Dan and Dave do--I'm horrified of them. That's my only question, I'm a very quick learner, if you can just give me a tip here, I honestly think I can pump out a chapter by next week. I wont ask for a Beta yet but when I get over the 60,000 word mark, can I get one please? Here is the first 400 words for the chapter btw.

**D** arkness. Silence.

They were the only things he could see and hear.

The pair’s rule ended when light seeped through. Slowly, an ancient, gilded map of the Blackwater Bay formed and usurped its predecessor’s kingdom. Silence ceased; terrifying war chants echoed, it made his ears bleed. The parchment blurred with glazing glass. Time stopped just before a maester’s scroll emerged to his eyes.

> **_The year is 278 After Conquest._ **
> 
> **_Westeros edges closer to madness._ **
> 
> **_A standoff between the Iron Throne and House Darklyn ensues in the small coastal town of Duskendale. Aerys, the second of his name, the latest paranoid Targaryen King, rots in the dungeons of the Dunfort. Lord Tywin Lannister, the Hand of the King, grows impatient… He intends to put Duskendale to the sword. However, in a spur of boldness, the sworn brother of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy, beseeches the Lion for a day to infiltrate the fortress; his task, an act of desperation to rescue his grace. A begrudged Tywin concedes, only doing so by granting the brave knight an hour which has now passed…_ **

* * *

_BOOONNNGGG!_

_BOOONNNGGG!_

_BOOONNNGGG!_

Atop his battle-proven steed, he heard the bells ring death. That meant one thing: Duskendale knew that _they_ sealed its fate. The trebuchets launched bolides at the town’s fifty-foot-high, three-mile-long, winding, enclosed, white-marble-stoned walls. Destruction pursued; fireballs wreaked hellfire on the parapets and its parish beyond.

If he thought that was enough, he would have halted the attack. However, Tywin was not a merciful man.

“NOCK!”

The archers on the front lines dipped their tines in the firepots before lacing the blazing arrows in their bows.

“LOOSE!”

The archers unleashed their first wave.

* * *

A thousand arrows zoomed into the night, blinding the full-moon’s reign with a clouding, packed colony of spluttery, fiery dots. They lingered there for an eternity before they plunged back down towards the earth. Their sharp teeth dropped like acid rain, skewering soldiers that manned the walls and citizens in the slums. The only target that the firestorm’s wrath missed was a white horse which dashed through Duskendale’s tapered, twisting, wreckage-debriding, panic-filled streets… the emerging chaos… inflicted by the ongoing horrors of the royal army… the animal freaked, but its master, Ser Barristan Selmy, tightly yanked on the reins, urging the frightened beast to continue its cantering. By the time the destrier concerted, Lord Daenys Darklyn’s seven best trackers loomed hot on their tail.

They pursued him and his fellow rider… _the_ _King._

“DON’T LET THEM REACH THE GATES!!!”

**Author's Note:**

> Since I've been bad at updating thought I'd give you lot a preview of chapter 1... also how would one of the Lord of Light give a certain favorite she-wolf a digiuse so she could raise her son at WF? Can't have the fishbitch fucking with Jonny boy in this life can we?


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